


The Dead Boy’s Diary

by Huniebunnie



Category: South Park
Genre: Clingy Stan Marsh, Grief/Mourning, Immortal Kenny McCormick, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mild Gore, Necromancy, Overdose, Protective Kenny McCormick, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Underage Drinking, Unhinged Butters Stotch, mentions of heaven, satanic rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huniebunnie/pseuds/Huniebunnie
Summary: After the murder of teenager Kyle Broflovski, police are left stumped to catch his killers and Stan Marsh is lost. He blames himself for the loss of his dear friend and allows his pain to consume him. Depressed and answerless, he gives up until the light of his life comes back to him.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski & Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Dead Boy’s Diary

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story of death and a love so strong that it overcame it and slipped from the cold arms of The Grim reaper himself.

“Get the fuck back here, Kyle!” Craig shouted in a hurry.

Kyle cried and tried to maneuver tree branches as quickly as he could to outrun the dark haired boy.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side and he tripped on a root. Stumbling to the wet ground and scratching himself with a stick. “Ack!” He hissed and fumbled with his coat to take out his phone. No reception, of course. So he did the next best thing he could think of; hit record on his camera and shove his phone back in the coat’s pocket. 

“I found you.” Craig growled menacingly. He reached down and pulled Kyle by the ankles. Dragging him through the snow and mud all the way back to Tweek’s decaying body. 

“Why?” Kyle shouted. “Why are you doing this?”   
  


He laughed dryly. “You’d think I’d be doing this shit if I didn’t fucking have to?”

“Please this isn’t you.” Kyle begged. 

“You know you’re pretty. For a redhead at least” Craig he switched the subject as he tied Kyle down. “I can assure you that this is me. Tweek started it all of this so now you’re gonna finish it”

“You said you loved me” He sobbed. Grasping onto the  _ love  _ card. His only card left. Craig probably never loved him. He probably never loved anyone. Not Kyle. Not his family. Not his friends. Not even Tweek. Hell, the blond was probably his first victim.

“Yeah well I lied. I just needed your heart.” Craig huffed, tying a tight, final knot to keep him from slipping away again. “Now shut the fuck up.”

Kyle cried only harder. There was so much he regretted tonight. He just wanted it to be quick and painless. No one will ever find him after he’s gone. At least not for a very long time. His only hope was that the coat would keep his phone safe from the elements.

Closing his eyes when Craig raised a knife over his head. “I’m sorry Stan.”

With that, he felt a piercing pain in his chest. Kyle screamed in agony, until he didn't. Phone slipping out of his pocket. The video catches a glimpse of the ginger choking on his own blood just twenty minutes before Stan and Kenny found him.

The detective paused the video as Sheila cried out. “Oh Bubbeleh!”

Stan curled in on himself. “I’m sorry Kyle.”

“We have identified two of the four other voices at the end to be that of Craig Tucker and Tweek Tweak. Sadly, they were reported missing yesterday and the station has no current leads on where they went.” Detective Yates said apologetically. 

“It’s all my fault.” The teen yanked on his bangs, turning to the grieving mother and detective. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” 

He stood from his chair and slammed the door after taking his leave. Hurrying home from the station and locking himself in his bedroom. Locking out his mother, friends, nosy sister, police. He wanted to be alone. The weight on his chest was too hard to bear. 

Soon, hours faded into days and he has yet to leave his space. The safety of his blankets and dimmed bedroom. He won’t eat, despite his mother’s worry-filled constant nagging. He felt empty. As if he was the only thing that needed to disappear for all to be right in the world again. They’d be better off without him.

It was his fault. Kyle is dead because he decided to be a child over a small spat that turned into a huge fight. They separated themselves from each other two weeks prior, Kyle turning to Craig for comfort and Stan turning to his old pal alcohol. But the alcohol only made him bitter and angry. 

He could use some right about now. Numb the pain his chest is experiencing. Numb the surgically removed limb that was Kyle’s whole existence in his future. Silence the voices telling him things he already knew. But instead, he was sober and staring at the dark purple walls of his bedroom. Tears always threatening to spill if a single thing doesn't go his way. 

Hell, he cried about dropping the charging cable of his cellphone. That’s why it’s still dead. The battery had enough of him constantly calling and replaying Kyle’s voicemail for him like a broken record. At least Sheila promised not to stop paying the phone bill so they could call Kyle and hear his chipper voice again.  


  
Not the small whisper before he died. 

It made Stan feel especially guilty. To probably be the last thing on Kyle’s mind even as a boy was about to carve his very heart out. All for some sort of virgin sacrifice for the Devil. It made their fight all the worse. Because if he wasn’t such a liar and admitted to Kyle that he was in fact gay and liked him back instead of lecturing him on how the Bible says it’s wrong. 

What the hell was wrong with him?

Things could’ve been different. Kyle would be in his arms right now while they discussed the death of a  _ different  _ teenage virgin. Maybe even laughing about wishing it was Cartman. Maybe they’d be watching a movie or having sex or something. Whatever Kyle wanted to do. Whatever normal teenagers did.

But he decided his pride was more important than his heart. He chose how people saw him now instead of seeing him genuinely happy. Now no one can see him at all. 

The town was shut down until further notice. School was cancelled and a curfew was announced to keep everyone in check. There was no witch hunt for Craig Tucker and his Twink Twink boyfriend. They were getting away with murder. 

Now he’s sure they’re looking into it but it didn’t feel like it was enough. They needed to face a jury and get the death penalty, effective immediately. Premeditated murderers reprimanded and publicly slandered for the death of an innocent teenager. 

But not even then Stan would think he’d feel satisfied. Not even a little bit. He wanted to know the  _ why _ . He needed answers. The reason they chose Kyle. Why make some sort of deal with someone over his heart?

Was it meant to be symbolic? Ripping out his heart because Craig cheated on his boyfriend and lied about loving Kyle? Possibly selling it to an organ harvester? Even for a stupid sacrifice. That still wouldn’t answer his  _ why _ . 

Cartman made him an offer he had been contemplating for a while. It’s just the idea of a deal with Eric Cartman seemed too sketchy for the fatass  _ not  _ to want something equally evil out of it. Maybe he paid Craig and Tweek to kill Kyle. He wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Eric never seemed remorseful. 

Still. Stan couldn’t bring himself to sleep. His body is begging for some sort of rest but his mind won’t give in. His eyelids always felt as unbearably heavy as his pain. He started to cry in frustration and hugged his pillow to muffle any noise that may escape his chapped, trembling lips.

“Stan, please don’t cry. It makes me wanna cry. And I hate crying.

He lifted his head. Eyes struggling to focus on the luminous figure due to tears. Though he’s sure he knew who it was by that voice alone. 

He wiped his eyes with the heel of his palms and stared at the direction the voice came from. He saw Kyle in all his glory. Stan started to laugh and cry at the same time. Overwhelmed and exhausted.

“Awesome. I’m hallucinating now.” He sobbed. “Go away!”

Kyle flinched at the shout and took a deep breath. “Stan, I’m really here right now. It’s me.”

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I don’t need this.” He put his face back in his pillow and screamed. He was probably dying at this point. Hasn’t had water in a few days and food in forever. That paired with his constant reverse coma must be making him go insane. Hearing voices and seeing things that aren’t  _ really  _ there. 

His mind must be in a cruel place to bring Kyle out like this. Why couldn’t it be Morgan Freeman or Bill Clinton to tell him it won’t be so bad? Why manifest Kyle and put his heart in more anguish so early? Did he want to drive himself to suicide like this? Was his survivor’s guilt is that bad?

“Please look at me. I don’t have a lot of time here.” Kyle whispered softly.

He shook his head on the pillow and whimpered.

“Stanley I’m begging you to just look at me.” The fake Kyle spoke more determinedly. “I promise I’m real. It’s not a trick.”

Stan slowly raised his head from the soaked pillow and looked up. “What do you want? Do you want me to die too? Tell me it’s my fault? What do I need to do so this can be right?”

“Oh my god.” Kyle whispered and rubbed his forehead. “Jesus Christ, Stan. No. God, no. None of this is your fault. I don’t want you dead either. I just came to comfort you is all.”

He sniffled. “Really?”

“Yes! I would never ask you to die or blame this on you.” He sounded so sorrowful. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

“What do  _ you  _ have to be sorry for?” He moved himself against his headboard. “You’re the victim.”

Kyle approached the bed and sat down. “That doesn’t mean you’re not the one in pain here.”

“I’m doing this to myself.” Stan whispered. “You’d be here if I told you how much I truly loved you. But I lied to your face.”

Kyle’s expression became more poingnate. “Let’s not think about what  _ could _ have been and focus on what things  _ could  _ be. You can’t end things. Even though you’re having a hard time, it’s not the answer you’re hoping for.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. Throat dryer than the Sahara in summer. “I just wish I told you. I wish I kissed you because I always wanted to and always told myself  _ next time for sure _ . But I don’t get another next time.”

“Can you do me a solid?”

“Is my subconscious really asking me to do it a favour right now?” 

“Shut up.” Kyle smiled softly. “Can you smile with me? I’d love to see it again.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that for you. It wouldn’t be real.”

Stan stared at the details of Kyle’s face. He really captured everything about him. Even the two light freckles on his neck. He used to joke about them being Kyle’s vampire bites and that was the reason he got really awful sunburns every summer. He was always told to shut up with a grin and Kyle touching his neck with amusement. 

That was why Stan’s twelfth birthday was vampire themed. They watched everything from Dracula to the shitty Twilight saga. Stan and Kyle nudging each other the whole time and snickering with themselves. No one else at that party was in on the joke and it made it all the better.

“I wish you were real.” Stan whispered quietly. 

“I am. I’m dead, sure. But I’m not a part of your subconscious mind. I’m not an illusion or hallucination either. I died for something supernatural so my spirit is fighting to stay. That’s why I don’t have much time.”

The teen laughed sarcastically. “I’m insane. I need to go to a therapist or group or something.”

“Stan will you shut the fuck up and listen to me?” Kyle snapped angrily. “I. Am. Real. I’m really in your bedroom while you snivel like a baby about missing me when I’m right in front of you! Don’t you think I miss you too? I don’t want to spend my limited time here like this!”

He swallowed quietly and reached forward. Passing through the other boy’s cloudy body. “Okay. Say you were real, what do we do now?”

“Enjoy each other’s company. Even if you look like a dishevelled homeless man at the moment, I know under that patchy unshaven face and smelly clothes, is the boy I fell in love with.”

“Wow. I’m being called out by a ghost.” Stan smiled a little. “You look good though. Healthy.”

“Well, as healthy as the dead can be I suppose.” Kyle smiled back. “Do you really love me?”

“Yeah. I’m really in love with you.” He nodded to himself. “But that’s worthless now. You’re not a physical thing on this plane anymore.”

“No. I’m working on it though. Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?” He looked at Stan’s soft features. The blue in his eyes wasn’t so bright anymore and his cheeks used to be fuller. “I know you haven’t eaten.”

“Oh. Yeah I guess not. I haven’t really been motivated.” Stan confessed. Slowly feeling his body heat with embarrassment. If this really was Kyle’s ghost and he looked as disgusting as he thought, he will throw up. 

His heart told him that was Kyle. Not a version of him but the real thing. But his brain was ruining it for him and telling him otherwise. That this was all a fucked up illusion and he was in fact talking to nothing at all.

“I wish you’d eat something. It’s really important to me that you stay healthy.” Kyle smiled. “So can you get some dinner? Have a little something to feed your body.”

“Kyle, I don’t even think I have the will to stand.”

He had to be honest, if not with Kyle then himself. He was withering away day by day. Losing the love of his life was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Because he was still warm when he found him. He was alive recently when his body was discovered. The video estimated twenty minutes between when he was stabbed to when he was found. At least three of those minutes had Kyle suffering and ten had his body bleeding out. 

If only Stan ran faster. If only he knew where he was going at the time. If only they didn’t fight beforehand and Kyle blocked his number.  _ If only… _

“I know but, I’m worried.” He pressed his lips together firmly and leaned forward to  _ ghost  _ a kiss to Stan’s forehead. All it did was make him shiver and reach out in an attempt to grab him. “I’m sorry that’s all I can do for you.”

“It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It hurts his heart. Discourages his soul. Tricks his mind. And above all, it had to be real. 

They were interrupted by a knock on the window. They glanced at each other before Stan opened his curtains. He sighed before unhooking the latch and opening it for the blond wearing underwear outside his pants. “What’re you doing here?” 

“Hey man, what’re you up to?” Kenny climbed through the window, purple Nike Jordan’s scuffing Stan’s already dirty sheets. 

He looked back at Kyle and shrugged. Deciding to be honest, he took a deep breath. “I’m talking to Kyle right now.”

“Oh Stan.” Kenny whispered. Voice laced with concern. Or was it guilt? 

“No, I’m serious.” Stan spoke with the most conference he could muster. “He’s sitting right there.” 

Kenny looked at the spot Stan pointed at and licked his lips. Preparing to mother his hurting friend. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Since the night he died.” He whispered and stared at the sad redhead.

The blond hummed, glancing at the various pieces of trash around the room. “Stan. Have you been drinking.”

Stan scowled. “ _ No. _ Kyle, please do something. Show him I’m not crazy.”

Kyle sighed but ultimately nodded. Making himself known to their friend with a mask. “Hey Ken.”

“Holy fucking shit. Kyle what are you doing here?” Kenny growled. “You know you’re not supposed to be down here.”

“I know. My time is running out so any second now and I’ll be gone.” He defended. “I had to see him. Look at him, he’s suffering.” 

Stan observed as Kyle started to fade. “Wait when can you come back?”

“I don’t know.” They both turned to Stan. “But I’ll come back. Just please eat for me?”

“Take a shower too. You smell rank, dude.” Kenny fanned his hand in Stan’s direction.

“I promise.” Stan mumbled. The last thing to disappear were those forest green eyes. He felt tears fall over his cheeks once again. “You saw him too, right?”

Kenny nodded and hugged his friend. “Yeah man. That was real.”

He gripped his friend’s cape and cried on his shoulder. “Oh thank god.” 

The blond pressed his lips in a fine line. Rubbing his best friend’s back and holding his breath to escape the smell of teenage  _ B-O _ . Something wasn’t right. Kyle was a new spirit and shouldn’t have been able to pass through the vale without hurting himself. He’ll have to check on him later. 

But for now, Mysterion is needed to bring comfort to this citizen of South Park. Or maybe Stan just needed a good kick in the boot to get the hamster wheel going again. 

He forced the other teen out of bed and into the shower. Convincing him by making him look at himself in the mirror. Quickly agreeing that Kyle wouldn’t want to see him like this again. Next, Kenny turned Stan’s bedroom light on and stripped down his bedding, taking it downstairs to the laundry machine and throwing in an extra tide pod to be safe. 

He grabbed a few trash bags from under the kitchen sink and some Lysol to kill the rotten oder. Spraying all of Stan’s pillows and his bare mattress, terminating the germs. 

He had just started picking up used tissues when the ravenett came back. “Did you wash your hair and shave?”

“Yeah.” Stan whispered. “Where’s my bedding?”

Kenny looked up and shook his head. “It’s worse here than my parent’s house used to be. I put it in the washer and now I’m cleaning your mountain of tissues. But what I won’t do is touch the bottles you  _ pissed in _ so dispose of them yourself.”

“Kay.” He nodded and obeyed. Tossing the bottles in a separate trash bag with cans and liquor bottles. He felt better after seeing Kyle again.  _ Normal.  _ It gave him some motivation to help himself. 

Stan swept while Kenny took his dirty clothes down to the laundry room and chucking his sheets in the dryer. Stan will feel better in a cleaner room. It can help him with the depression and maybe even get him to eat. That was next on the list; trying to find a food Stan was willing to eat at this hour. 

He settled for ham and tomato grilled cheese. Scarfing it down once he realised how hungry he was. Even accepting a glass of milk Kenny got for him. They put his sheets back on his bed together. Kenny tucked him in and put his phone on the charger generously. 

“Get some rest, dude. The bags under your eyes are fucking swelling. You look like shit, but better than dogshit.”

Stan snorted and nodded. “Thanks Kenny.”

“Uh huh. I’m awesome, I know. Just don’t let your phone die again. I’ve been calling to check in because I’m worried about you. And apparently I was right.” He smirked. “You’re starting to look like a hooker sat on your face and gave you pink eye.”

“Ugh. Thanks for the visual.” Stan gagged. He flipped off the snickering blond and shut the window after he left. 


End file.
